


Explorations

by orphan_account



Series: We Mechanical Men [2]
Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Consent Issues, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Android AU. Life goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explorations

Nick felt guilty for lying to his parents about how he hurt himself, the first big thing he’d ever been dishonest about to them, but he knew they wouldn’t understand. They’d try to take Joe away when it was something that could have happened to anyone, an accident. Bad luck. He spent the next few weeks on tenterhooks, alert for any sign of impending parental disapproval, suspicion. His mom was fine; it was his dad who worried him, sometimes watching he and Joe through narrowed eyes, but he never openly said anything and Nick’s nerves eventually settled.

Since that afternoon on the couch – the memory of it made heat pool in his belly, made his limbs turn heavy – Nick hadn’t done anything like that with Joe. That day had wakened something inside him though; it rose and pressed its face against the cage of his self-control, but he didn’t ask again. Not when he helped Joe place his fingers on the fret of Nick’s guitar, their faces inches from each other; not when they whispered together in the late hours of the night, Nick feeling as if he couldn’t suck in a breath properly. 

But he wanted, oh, he wanted. There was want and need and love, all twisted up inside him. In those moments he felt full to the brim, near bursting. He was confused. How could it be possible to feel so much for one person? Android.

Morning. Nick awoke, not completely alert but not groggy either. There were birds in the trees outside making a ridiculous amount of noise. The sunlight fought its way through the closed blinds and into the still dim room. Joe sat at the desk, head propped on a hand, idly sketching something. His hair was rumpled as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

Watching Joe, Nick felt a vice grip his chest, an ache deep in his gut. It was unfair to want someone this much, he thought to himself. It was awful. And wonderful.

“Hey, Nick!” said Joe, swinging around to greet him, face bright and pleased as always.

“Morning,” said Nick, fighting back the giddy smile that wanted to come out. Instead, he gave Joe one he hoped was suitably nonchalant, closed-mouthed. He swung himself out of the bed and walked to the bathroom, adjusting himself in his sweats.

He brushed his teeth and hopped into the shower, enjoying the feeling of near too hot water drumming down on his shoulders. He thought of stroking himself off, but decided against it. When he came out, he discovered that the heat had fogged the mirror. Wiping it down, he flexed his arms a little, inspected his chest.

Kevin arrived at the house at eleven o’clock, smelling of airport and, faintly, curry. He’d finished his exams and would be staying for two weeks. Mooching, thought Nick uncharitably, but he did miss Kevin more than he’d expected.

“Hey, little brother!” said Kevin, seeing Nick. Then, when he saw Joe, “Other little brother! How would you two like to help me bring in my bags? Thanks, you are so sweet.”

When Nick tried to grab his fair share of Kevin’s bags, Joe shook his head and swooped in, hefting them easily. Nick was left with only two but they were heavy; he was glad he didn’t have to carry more, though he didn’t say that aloud, of course. Kevin always over-packed. He said he needed to bring his textbooks everywhere to study but Nick suspected his bags were actually filled with his ridiculously large shoe collection.

The bags dumped on the floor in Kevin’s bedroom, he sat down and planted his chin in his hand. “So what’s the haps, guys? Nick, mom tells me you’re already starting the ninth grade syllabus. Since when did you get so smart? You little overachiever.”

Nick ducked his head, colouring a little, but mostly he felt gratified. “Joe’s helped a lot. I mean, I study pretty hard, but without him I’d be totally confused.”

“Hey, the potential was already there, I just helped him unlock it,” Joe joked, bumping his hip against Nick’s. God, even when he said lame stuff like that Nick still wanted to – 

He tried to focus on the rest of the conversation, listen to Kevin ramble about his classes and his professor and this one girl whom he really liked, but he kept getting distracted. Joe was wearing an older t-shirt, worn thin, the neckline loose and gaping. Despite himself, Nick’s eyes kept being drawn to the hollow of Joe’s throat, the smooth skin just beneath. It would be warm, he thought, and dry. With none of the fine hairs on other people’s bodies, smaller pores.

He could reach over and touch that dip, the silent invitation. Maybe taste it, later, when they weren’t around Kevin. Joe would let him.

The three of them had a mini ping-pong tournament, Nick and Joe against Kevin because “you two need the extra help, duh.” Nick rolled his eyes because although Kevin talked big, he actually kind of sucked. 

That day, Nick ended up having to laugh up his sleeve a number of times – because he was having fun and also because he didn’t realise how accustomed he’d become to having Joe around. Kevin wasn’t, having only visited briefly a couple of times, and it showed. Sometimes he’d be having a perfectly normal conversation and suddenly stop and stare at Joe, flabbergasted. It amused Joe a _lot_ and Nick suspected him of purposefully acting up, using oddly formal language, making his movements a little too fluid, in hopes of making Kevin do a double-take. He succeeded.

He opened his eyes to see Joe hovering over him, the bed dipping to the left under his weight.

“Wake up, Nickkkk,” said Joe in a sing-song voice, batting at one of Nick’s errant curls.

He was like a _cat._ A cat with an extremely short attention span. Nick blew hair off his face and squinted up at Joe. “You are a pest,” he told him, but he wasn’t mad. There was molten heat lapping at him; he felt too good to be in a bad mood. It occurred to him that he could feel even better.

Kevin was singing in the shower. Nick and Joe stared at each other, unmoving for one long moment, Joe’s hand frozen in Nick’s hair. Then Nick kicked his covers down until they were just above his knees.

“Joe?” he said quietly, and saw the instant that Joe got it. 

His eyebrows lowered and a look of concentration came across his face. It warmed Nick, having that focus on him, all for him. It made his nipples tighten up into hard little points, caused him to shift his hips against the mattress restlessly. 

The tent in his boxers – he hadn’t felt like wearing more clothing last night – was becoming obvious.

Nick could smell himself, sleep and a bit of sweat, pre-come. Joe moved further onto the bed so that he straddled Nick’s legs. He pulled Nick’s boxers until they were around his thighs, and both of them sighed when Nick’s cock was exposed to the air, hard and flushed and already leaking. Dipping a finger into the wetness, Joe smirked when Nick made a small, involuntary sound. Joe rubbed his finger and thumb together, curious, and sniffed at his hand.

“ _Joe_ ,” said Nick, protesting. He grabbed Joe’s hand and brought it to his face, nuzzling it. It was soft, uncallused. He darted out his tongue and tasted himself there, letting out a muffled groan. His face was hot, his dick throbbed insistently. He licked sloppily at Joe’s palm and wrapped Joe’s hand around his own dick. “Do it.”

The first stroke was so good it made Nick’s eyes roll up. The second nearly made him bite his tongue. Joe’s hand wasn’t quite slippery enough, drier than Nick usually liked it, but it being _Joe_ who was jerking him off more than made up for it. Nick found himself arching his back off the bed, humping his hips into it, panting and noisy. He twisted one hand into the sheets and the other into Joe’s shirt.

“Shh,” said Joe, putting a finger over Nick’s lips. Nick bit him. 

Somehow, Joe knew how to jerk him just right. Nick imagined Joe feigning sleep and observing him while he jerked off in the blanketing darkness, memorising it. The idea made him flush hot. He was riding the edge when Joe slowed his hand down, eased the pressure. Nick nearly cried. Strands of hair were stuck to his face with sweat; his clothes were damp. He felt overheated, desperate. 

“I will kill you,” he said, terse, tugging Joe’s shirt until its stitches creaked in protest.

“Pushy,” said Joe, huffing a laugh, but his hand sped up, which was all that mattered.

Nick stared up at Joe, blinking the sweat from his eyes, fucking into Joe’s fist before coming with a choked noise. Boneless, he found that he couldn’t move his arms or legs, and watched complacently as Joe wiped his hand clean – on what, Nick wasn’t sure – and opened the window, crawling into the bed with him and pulling the cover over them both.

He positioned Joe’s arm so that it was slung over him, and cuddled into Joe’s chest.

“Love you,” he slurred. “Best. You are – best.” His eyes were closing but he wanted, _needed_ to give Joe some idea of what was welling in his chest, filling him up.

“Love you too,” said Joe. He sounded thoughtful. 

Not five minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door before it creaked open. It was Kevin. 

He clutched his hands to his chest and made an exaggerated cooing noise. “Aw, aren’t you two just the cutest.”

 

Things continued like that every morning after, Joe jerking Nick off in bed, watching his every reaction intently. Nick felt himself spiralling a little more out of control day by day. 

Sometimes when Nick and Joe were home alone, mom and dad working, Kevin out with old high school friends, they’d spend the whole day in Nick’s room. They’d count how many times Nick could get off, make him come again and again until the air thick and heavy with it. Joe would try to beat his previous record, making Nick go off so many times he only let out a few dribbles.

It was good. But Nick had heard – the older students at the school he used to go to would talk about – and then he asked Joe to explain it, despite how hot it made his face feel. When Joe did, his matter of fact tone made Nick harden in his shorts, his mouth fill with saliva. I want that, he thought. Heat flared up in his belly.

“Will you do that for me?” breathed Nick, covetous.

“Of course,” said Joe instantly, not even having to think about it. “Anything.”

They’d been working on Nick’s latest homework booklet at the dining room table, pens and paper and books spread out on the glass, but they hadn’t been productive for the last hour or so. The way Joe chewed on the end of his pen distracted Nick to an embarrassing degree; when had he even picked up the habit? Nick’s dad had come home early that day, but he was holed up in the study, unlikely to emerge for hours yet. 

They closed the doors and jammed chairs under the knobs to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted. Nick only managed to stop Joe from sweeping everything off the table.

Joe pouted. “Where is your sense of drama?” But he began moving everything onto the floor in neat piles, lay down Nick's copy of _Lord of the Flies_ on top. He helped Nick shuck his clothes and lifted him so that he sat on the table. It was cold, and Nick flinched.

Nick squirmed as Joe ran his fingers lightly over his thighs; each movement zinged its way to his groin. It was as if Nick could feel Joe’s fingers over his ass, like the hair on his body stood straight up, alert and aware. His groin throbbed with heat, his cock and balls were already stiff and heavy with arousal.

They would probably have to disinfect the table afterwards, thought Nick. Then, Worth it.

He stared as Joe licked his lips and imagined fucking into that hot, damp place, how good it would feel. Seeing that dark head bobbing sweetly on his cock, so good, so obedient. He wanted it so badly but tried to tamp it down; it would be Joe’s first time too.

“You should, uh, take your time with it, since you haven’t done this before,” said Nick, wide-eyed and earnest, before pushing Joe’s head towards his lap.

Joe let himself be drawn down, bending easily from the waist. He was laughing, though. “Thanks for the tip – from your vast knowledge and experience, I’m sure.”

“Ugh, shut – ” Nick squeaked instead of finishing as Joe swallowed half of his dick in one go. 

Too much, too quickly. Joe pulled off, a look on concentration on his face, and met Nick’s eyes for a few long seconds. Nick breathed harshly and stared down at his own dick, shiny with spit, and Joe. Leaning forward again, Joe nosed into the curls at the base of his dick, inhaling. His forehead was pressed against Nick’s stomach and his hair tickled slightly. He moved his lips over the cut of Nick’s hip, moved down, tongued curiously at his balls. He drew back and blew on them, cool. Then, satisfied when Nick shivered, he took him into his mouth again.

Hot suction, wet and smooth – Joe made sure to be careful with his teeth – the reality of it was better than anything he could have imagined. His eyes fell halfway closed; he watched Joe through his eyelashes, the hollowed cheeks, mouth that was rapidly becoming red and abused. Joe’s rhythm was tentative at first, shy, then quicker and deeper as he gained confidence.

He hooked a leg over Joe’s shoulder, dug his heel in to really ride him, make him take it. It was sloppy, messy; Nick’s pubes getting wet, darkening. His thighs shook with the feeling. Joe grasped the base of his dick and pumped in tandem, and Nick couldn’t stop making these helpless little mewls. God, it felt so good, he was already close. Joe petted Nick’s belly and breastbone, feeling muscle and bone beneath skin.

“C-can I come in your mouth?” Nick gasped.

“Mmmph,” said Joe. He moved his eyebrows to convey ... something.

What was that supposed to mean? Nick thrust his hips again, unable to stop himself, and let out a stutter-breath. He gripped Joe’s wrist and squeezed hard, screwing up his face. “What?” He pulled out to let Joe talk, but by then it was too late: he jerked and spurted on Joe’s shocked face, his half-open mouth, even his ear.

“Thanks for the warning,” said Joe drily, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

“No problem,” said Nick dreamily, sliding down. He watched as Joe cleaned himself up fussily, looking critically at his hair in the mirror and checking for any missed spots. Nick wondered if Joe would smell like him for the rest of the day; his clothes smelt of laundry detergent, homey and familiar; and Nick could tell he used the vanilla body in the shower, but he lacked an underlying scent apart from that. Truth be told, a part of Nick felt smug, possessive like he’d marked Joe as his territory, a sign as clear as day that Joe was his. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud, of course.

Then the reality of what they’d done was beginning to sink in, and Nick’s mood dropped. He felt a little sick. It wasn’t kid stuff, messing around like they had before. They’d crossed a line.

Nick knew that if he had a choice though, he’d do it again. He found himself clenching and unclenching his hands, nervous; he watched Joe’s face to see if he looked any different. He didn’t.

Occasionally Nick thought that he loved Joe too much. Other times he just felt empty, like a jug that’s been poured and poured until it holds nothing. 

“Joe,” said Nick, face serious. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

Joe turned from the mirror and gave him a level look. Nick had the grace to blush. “I haven’t told anyone so far; what makes you think I’ll start now?” 

“I was just making sure,” muttered Nick defensively, ducking Joe’s attempt to swat his head.

 

It was a problem. After Joe had gone down on him, Nick found himself staring at Joe’s mouth more and more, obsessing over it. Joe bit his lip absently and Nick began stuttering. Bored, Joe made a popping noise with his mouth, and Nick’s mind was instantly drawn to other activities; the next thing he knew he was hopping around in agony after walking into a table. He felt that he was so obviously distracted it was a wonder his whole family didn’t notice. But as knee-meltingly good as it was when Joe sucked him, he wanted – something else.

The idea came into his head one day and refused to leave him alone: he wanted Joe to kiss him. A real kiss, a proper one on the mouth, with intent.

It would be appropriate, he thought, if he and Joe were each other’s first kiss. Then they could own each other in a way no one else did. He spent days trying to think up ways to make it happen.

It came to Nick all at once. Joe was a logical being; give him (a) and (b) and he would come up with answer (c) all by himself. In essence, all Nick had to do was create an atmosphere conducive to romance and the rest would fall into place. He began to feel tentatively confident. After all, how hard could it be? People got themselves kissed, and kissed others, all the time.

“Uh. Are you okay?” Joe was eyeing Nick with an uncertain look on his face.

“What?” Nick blinked and swore when he realised he’d knocked over his cup by standing up so abruptly.

Nick had planned the evening to the last detail. On the surface it was like any other night they spent together, sacked out on the couch watching DVDs, but Nick chosen a psychological thriller to watch – he pictured Joe hiding his face in Nick’s shirt during the scarier parts – and he’d convinced his parents to go out and see a movie. He and Joe would not be disturbed. The popcorn was freshly popped and buttery, and he had Diet Coke. Though Joe didn’t eat, he knew that Joe would enjoy the smells.

On screen, the rookie FBI agent spoke intensely with the distinguished, grey-haired medical examiner. Nick watched Joe from the corner of his eye; he had his chin cupped on his palm. Nick plumped the cushions restlessly.

 _What are you doing?,_ Joe mouthed at him. Nick shook his head and turned his head to the TV, pretending to ignore him. 

The movie played on, discordant violins shrilling as the agent ran down white corridors. Nick had no idea what was going on. Who was the man with the moustache? He didn’t really care. 

Ridiculously, Nick found himself sitting on the couch with his back straight, his knees together, feeling weirdly self-conscious around Joe in a way he’d never been before. He was a little stressed. Internally rolling his eyes at himself, he forced himself to relax.

Nick leaned back against into the cushions, elaborately casual, and stretched an arm over the backrest. On his side of the couch, Joe flopped onto his back and stretched his legs so that they rested on Nick’s lap. He wriggled his toes in his socks, his attention wholly on the screen.

Nick sighed. Somehow, impossibly, his plan wasn’t working. 

“Dude, what is up with you? Why are you being so twitchy?” Joe sat up properly and took his legs off Nick, sitting cross-legged to face him.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” The words were clipped. The back of Nick’s neck felt hot.

“Uh, _sure_ it’s nothing, you’ve been off all night. If – ” Unable to wait any longer, Nick cut him off by leaning forward pressing his mouth against Joe’s.

Joe’s lips met his in a lush, open-mouthed kiss, artificially sweet and a bit salty. Nick felt the briefest flash of Joe’s tongue, warm and slick against his own cool mouth. Nick thought he could taste a trace of metal, so slight he wasn’t sure if it was only his imagination. Eventually they eased apart.

Feeling stunned, Nick smacked his lips together. They were tingling. Joe took the opportunity to sway in close and steal another kiss, a quick one. He looked at Nick with his eyebrows raised.

“Man, you are so weird,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up. “You’re lucky I like you a lot.”


End file.
